Aftermath
by flippinada
Summary: What if Willow was responsible for Spike's return? Post ChosenHome COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Title: Aftermath   
Author: flippinada   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: What if Willow was responsible for Spike's return?   
Spoilers: Buffy Season 7   
Author's Note: I've yet to see Angel Season 5, so I'm just making it up as I go.   


***   


Prologue 

With a dopey smile, Willow lay limp on the floor. She was floating in ecstasy, buoyed by the thousands of tendrils connecting her to burgeoning slayers around the world. _Whoa._ _If this is what it feels like to be high, I'm gonna have to rethink my anti-drugs stance._

She wondered vaguely how the battle was going but wasn't particularly worried. Feeling their power as it surged through her link to all the slayers, she felt complete confidence in Buffy, Faith, Kennedy... 

Beside her, a stream of golden energy blasted through the floor to the ceiling, continuing until it reached open sky. Willow stared in amazement. She hadn't done that, had she? Her leg moved, only an inch, but enough to touch the light. 

Suddenly Willow's perspective shifted. In her mind's eye, she was looking at a dark cavern. She was bathed in light, her body heating rapidly. Buffy was staring at her, wide eyes brimming with tears. 

Willow was jerked back to her body when Kennedy grabbed her. The slayer hauled Willow to her feet and almost carryed her to the exit. Disoriented and exhausted, Willow allowed her lover to guide her as she heard Xander shouting for Anya. Something told her Anya was dead and her heart ached for him. 

The survivors crowded onto the bus. As the vehicle careened away from the high school, Willow clung to Kennedy, taking comfort in the slayer's solid warmth. She was weary, but every molecule in her body seemed to hum in tune with the world. If she cared to, Willow imagined she could touch anything or anyone she chose. 

She closed her eyes and found herself back in the cavern. This time she was in pain, burning pain that enveloped her entire body. In agony, she opened her mouth to scream, but a calm resolve crept over her, somehow dampening the pain. Panting a little, Willow tracked the peaceful sensation to its source--Spike's soul. His strength and goodness overwhelmed her, moving her to tears. 

Rocks rained down on her as the cavern collapsed. She felt her body--no, _his_ body--begin to disintegrate and in that moment wished she could save him. Something shifted, a subconscious transfer of energy-- 

"Willow!" 

Her eyelids flew open. Kennedy was shaking her, dark eyes filled with worry. 

"Kennedy? Wha-" 

"You were completely out of it. I thought you were dying." Kennedy hugged her tightly. 

Willow stroked her hair, soothing her. "Oh no, baby. I'm not dying. I'm okay. We're okay." 

The bus screeched to a halt and everyone began scrambling out the doors. Willow gently withdrew from Kennedy. "We're okay," she repeated. Kennedy gave her a shaky smile and nodded. Hand in hand, they got off the bus and joined the others. 

The crater that was Sunnydale stretched for miles. Willow blinked against the sun, sensing the energy recede until only the slayers made their presence felt, but distantly, like stars in the night sky. She mingled with her friends, trading quips and relieved smiles. 

They had won.   


*** 


	2. Part 1

*** 

Part 1 

Willow slid out of the cab, pulling her overnight bag with her. On the sidewalk she paused for a moment, studying the tall office building. _Ooh, shiny._ She felt nothing untoward, but nevertheless carefully ensured that her magical shields were in place--just in case. Squaring her shoulders, she marched towards the revolving glass door. 

The lobby was bustling with people, all of whom moved as if they were late for an important meeting. Dodging employees, she navigated her way to the information desk. 

Without looking up from a computer screen, the receptionist asked, "Can I help you?" 

"I'd like to see Angel, please," Willow said briskly. 

"Do you have an appoint-" The woman looked up and froze, her black-framed glasses slipping to the end of her nose. "Miss Rosenberg?" 

She blinked. "Have we met before?" 

"Oh no." After glancing furtively about the lobby, the receptionist leaned forward. "But you're quite the celebrity around here." 

Startled, Willow grasped the first thing that came to mind. "You mean, because of the whole 'fighting The First' deal?" 

The woman shook her head. "Actually I was referring to the 'almost destroying the world' deal. Even the senior partners were impressed." 

"Oh." Willow felt her innards shrivel into a tight knot, but she forced a smile. "So, is Angel here?" 

"Yes, of course. Just a moment." She tapped the keyboard for a minute, then waved over a burly blank-faced security guard. "John will escort you to Angel's private elevator." 

Willow nodded her thanks and followed the guard, relieved to escape the receptionist's awestruck eyes. 

*** 

"Willow. Hi!" 

"Harmony?" She took a faltering step out of elevator, wondering what other surprises Angel had in store for her. 

"Of course, silly. Who else?" The blonde vampire threw her arms around Willow and hugged her. Alarmed, Willow jerked away, automatically fingering her neck. Harmony was too busy eyeing Willow's brown suede jacket to notice. "You look great. You've really changed from that nerdy wallflower you used to be." 

"Gee, thanks." Her sarcastic tone flew right over Harmony's head and Willow rolled her eyes. "You look great, too." She wasn't lying either. Dressed in a smart navy business suit, the vampire looked the perfect personal assistant. 

Harmony tilted her head. "Thank you, Willow." Her demeanour changed in an eye blink, from the vacuous cheerleader Willow had known in high school to a professional secretary. "Angel's waiting for you in his office." 

A little dazed, Willow allowed Harmony to usher her into the inner sanctum. The large, well lit room was beautifully furnished. Smiling, Angel rose from behind a huge, polished desk by the window, circled the desk and approached her. "Willow, this is an unexpected pleasure." 

"Angel, hey. Aren't you looking...all glowy in the streaming sunshine and why aren't you on fire?" she said in one breath. 

Chuckling, he hugged her lightly. "Special glass." 

"One of the perks of working with evil, huh?" 

Angel coughed and if it were possible she was sure he'd be blushing. "Well, there've been some changes." 

"I noticed." His gaze slid away from her and she added hastily, "Look, Angel, I'm not judging you. I guess I just never figured you for the type to compromise." 

He looked at her then, dark eyes radiating a strange sorrow she couldn't comprehend. "There were...circumstances." 

From out of nowhere, an image of a surly young man with unkempt brown hair flashed in her mind. She felt as though she knew him, but she was equally certain that she'd never seen him before. Shaking her head slightly, Willow moved away from Angel to sit down. 

"So, where's Casper?" 

Angel leaned against his desk. "Casper?" he said innocently. 

She smiled; Fred had been very informative. "Your not-so-friendly ghost?" said Willow. 

"Right behind you, Red." 

"Ack!" Twisting her head, she saw Spike smirking at her. She stared at him as he glided around her to stand beside Angel. Although she'd known he was alive, seeing him in the flesh, so to speak, still shocked her. 

"What brings you to lawyer central, luv?" 

Willow felt her cheeks flush and she took a deep breath. "See, here's the thing. I might...sorta...in a totally accidental way...be kinda responsible for you," she waved her hand in his general direction, "being like this." 

"You did this to me?" Spike's face was expressionless, but his voice was hard and angry. 

"Hey, hey," Willow protested. "Didn't you hear me? It was an accident." 

"It's okay, Willow," said Angel reassuringly, fixing Spike with a stern look. "We know you wouldn't do something like this on purpose. Right, Spike?" 

Spike snorted and glowered at her. "You can undo it, right?" 

"Oh, sure." She furrowed her brow. "As soon as I figure out what I did." 

"What?" Growling, Spike advanced towards her. Undaunted, she didn't so much as twitch and he halted, looking extremely put out. 

Angel frowned, crossing his arms. "Willow, if you don't know what you did, then how do you know you're responsible?" 

She shrugged. "I can't explain it, but as soon as Fred told me the sitch, I just knew." 

"You just knew?" said Spike. "Well, as long as you're not being vague about it." 

His sarcasm provoked a sharper response than she'd intended. "You know, if you'd called me right away, maybe you'd be fixed by now." 

"Can't pick up a phone, luv," Spike said blithely. 

"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your mouth," Willow retorted. "You could have asked _someone_," she gave Angel a pointed look, "to call me." 

The two vampires exchanged sheepish looks. Avoiding her gaze, Angel rearranged his limbs. "We, er, didn't want to upset...anyone." 

Irritation drove Willow to her feet. "Me and Buffy aren't joined at the hip, you know." Spinning around, she stuck her hands in the air and jiggled them. "See, arms and legs working independent of Buffy." 

Wearing identical bemused expressions, Angel and Spike stared at her. 

She sighed. "It's not like I have to report everything I do to her." 

After a moment Angel said, "You told her, didn't you?" 

"Well...it's Buffy," she said, a little defensive. "You know how demanding she can be." 

Simultaneously Angel and Spike said, "Oh, yeah," then glared at each other. 

She rolled her eyes. "Look, if you don't want my help, I can just leave. I've got a lot of other stuff to do." 

Spike snapped his head round. "Hang on, Red. No one said anything about not wanting your help." 

"Good. Then why don't you show me to Fred's lab so we can get started," she said firmly. 

Apparently flummoxed by her assertiveness, Spike cocked his head, watching her for several seconds before he hesitantly drifted towards the door. 

"See you later," Willow said to Angel. 

"Sure," he said with a small smile as his eyes moved from her to Spike and back again. 

Mumbling something inaudible, Spike disappeared through the door, and she followed in a more conventional fashion. 

***   
  



	3. Part 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They give me warm fuzzies. :-) Sorry this part took so long, but I'm a slooow writer. 

*** 

Part 2 

As Spike stomped along the corridor, his feet made no sound and his leather duster didn't creak. Willow stifled a giggle at his apparent mime routine. He scowled at her and she coughed to conceal her amusement. It seemed he was upset for an entirely different reason, however. 

"Buffy too busy to come with you, huh?" 

Caught off guard, Willow blurted, "No...I mean, yeah, she's real busy, what with training slayers and looking after Dawn." 

He didn't look at her. "S'okay. I understand. You don't have to make excuses for her." 

"I'm not." She stopped dead. A second later Spike realised she wasn't beside him and turned to face her. "She wanted to come, Spike, she really did. But--" 

"I get it. She had better things to do," he said, his voice bitter. Before she could contradict him Spike gestured to a door a little further down the corridor and faded through the wall. 

_Well, that was rude._ Shaking her head, Willow headed to the door. When she entered she found a laboratory filled with people. The brightly lit, sterile environment reminded her of the Initiative labs and she couldn't help the shiver that thrummed down her spine. She hoped they weren't putting together any freaky Adam-like creatures here. 

"Willow!" Fred rushed towards her, grinning madly. 

Happy to see a friendly face, Willow greeted her with a hug. "Hey, Fred." 

"Thanks for coming," said Fred as she led the way to a less crowded corner of the lab. 

"No big. It's good to know _someone's_ glad to see me." Willow slanted a pointed look at Spike, who was already waiting for them. 

"Hey, now. I'm glad to see you," he said, making a big show of looking insulted. 

She pursed her mouth. "Only cause you want me to mojo you back into your body so you can go beat something up." 

"Too bloody right I do." Clasping his hands, Spike began bouncing up and down on his toes. "So let's get down to brass tacks, luv. What do we do?" 

Willow hopped onto a stool. "Well, first, Fred fills me in on her research." She looked expectantly at the brunette. 

Fred lost her smile. "I don't know a whole lot, actually. Near as I can tell, Spike is...out of phase, like he's trapped between dimensions. Nothing I've tried has had any effect, so I'd say the cause is probably of the mystical variety." 

"Makes sense. What does Wesley say?" 

A pink blush tinted Fred's cheeks. "He's been researching the amulet, but so far--nada." 

"Hmm." 

"Hmm, what?" Spike said, quivering like wobbly jello. 

"Hmm, let me think for a minute," said Willow, exasperated by his badgering. Superpowered or not, she wasn't omniscient. 

"What's to think about? Just work your mojo and fix me." 

"Spike, it's not that simple. I could accidentally sever whatever's holding you here and send you to the afterlife. Is that what you want?" 

He froze and his form flickered. In the instant before he looked away, Willow could have sworn she saw terror in his eyes. 

"Some witch you are," he said gruffly. "What's the point of coming here if you're not gonna do anything." Spike spun away and vanished through a wall. 

"Don't worry," Fred said as she pulled herself onto a stool, "he'll be back when he's cooled down." 

"Oh," said Willow, a trifle surprised by Fred's blase attitude. "Does he do that a lot?" 

"Yep. If he ever gets solid again, he'll probably be walking into walls for a month," Fred said with a giggle. She peeked over her shoulder and leaned towards Willow. "To tell you the truth, I think he does it to hide how scared he is. He told me hell was trying to drag him in." 

Willow stared at her. "Hell? But he died a hero." 

Fred shrugged. "Maybe that wasn't enough to counter all the bad stuff." 

"Maybe. But it still doesn't explain his newfound transparency." She tapped her fingernails on the smooth countertop, considering her next move. "Tell me about your experiments." 

Fred nodded and reached for a nearby laptop. The next few hours whizzed by as the two women discussed Fred's hypotheses and attempts to restore Spike. When the phone rang, they both jumped a little. Fred answered it and handed the receiver to Willow. "It's Angel." 

*** 

The restaurant was rather posh, furnished in tasteful if conservative dark colours. A piano melody tinkled in the background, setting a relaxed mood. Willow felt severely underdressed in her casual pants and suede jacket, and wished Angel had given her the opportunity to change. She half expected the polished maitre'd to summarily eject them from the restaurant, but instead he addressed Angel by name and escorted them to a table. 

Her incredulity must have been obvious because Angel somewhat sheepishly explained, "This is where Wolfram & Hart wine and dine their important clients." 

"Don't I feel special," Willow mumbled as the maitre'd seated her. Their table was hidden from the other diners by the strategic use of plants and decorative screens, creating the illusion of privacy. _Probably comes in handy for Wolfram & Hart's more demony demons._

After approving Angel's wine selection and placing menus before them, the maitre'd slipped away. Willow studied the menu, pretending not to notice the awkward atmosphere. She and Angel tended to socialise only when either Buffy or the world was in peril. 

A waiter brought a bottle of red wine, filled their glasses, and took their orders. Angel surprised her again by ordering a steak, and she wondered if he would actually eat it. As the waiter left, Angel gave her a tentative smile. 

"So, how're things going?" he asked. 

Willow shrugged. "Business as usual." She frowned. "It's like a slayer assembly line. They arrive at the academy, all untrained and malleable, we make 'em into fighting machines and ship them out." 

Angel blinked. "Actually I meant...how're things with you?" 

"Oh." Flustered, she sipped her wine to gather her thoughts. The alcohol warmed her stomach. "I'm doing good. Peachy, in fact." 

Angel cocked his head. "You don't sound too certain about that." 

"No, really, I'm fine," she said, aware that she was protesting way too much. 

"Uh huh," he said, staring at her. 

"All right! Stop with the third degree already." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm just...bored, that's all." 

Angel squinted at her. "Bored?" 

She shrugged. "We're overrun with slayers, so I don't need to fight demons any more. Xander and Dawn handle the newbies better than I could, Buffy and Kennedy are in charge of training, and Giles is organising a new Watcher's Council. Even Faith is doing important stuff; she can't really stay in one place, being a fugitive and all, so she's travelling around the world taking care of problem slayers. That leaves the oh-so-fascinating administrative details for me to deal with: digging through the Council's finances, arranging travel and accommodation, keeping track of where the trained slayers are sent. The fun that is my life never stops." 

Angel's mouth twitched. 

Willow waved a finger at him. "Don't you dare laugh, mister. It's not funny." 

"No, not at all." A grin broke out on his face. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting something so..." 

"Trivial? Mundane?" 

"Non-apocalyptic." 

She smiled a little, despite herself. "I hate to say it, but I kinda miss the old days." 

"I know what you mean. Things were a lot more simple then." 

They shared a nostalgic moment, smiling at each other. Two veterans of the neverending war against evil. Loud laughter erupted from somewhere behind Willow and the moment was gone. 

"So, how's your business going?" she asked. 

"Same old, same old. Killing demons..." He cleared his throat. "Saving demons." 

"Wow. That's brand spanking new." 

Avoiding her gaze, Angel fidgeted with his napkin. "Yeah, well...it's complicated." 

Here came the tricky part. "How so?" she said casually. 

"I don't want to bore you," he said, smiling disarmingly. 

Willow returned his smile with one of her own patented innocent ones. "That's okay. I'm kinda curious." Guilt churned her stomach and she felt a hot flush creep up her neck. 

He studied her for a long moment, and his smile faded. "Really?" 

Oh, crap. "Yeah." Willow tried to maintain her facade but it was too late. She never was a very good liar and Angel was--or rather had been--a master of manipulation. It wasn't even a contest. His eyes flashed yellow and for a second she fancied she saw the demon clawing to get out. She felt her heart begin to perform its own version of the snoopy dance. 

Angel sat up straight. "You came here to spy on me!" 

"No, no...not exactly." 

He suddenly looked very Angelusy. "Not exactly?" 

Holding up her hands in a placating gesture, Willow said, "It's not what you think, honest." 

"Oh, so you're not here to check up on me and make sure I'm not about to turn evil." 

"Okaaay, so it is what you think..." 

Reaching across the table, Angel grasped her wrist in a gentle but secure grip. "Willow, I was evil for over a century. I practically wrote the book on it. I think I can handle Wolfram & Hart." His voice was low and persuasive, seductive even. 

She felt a surge of anger at his attempt to intimidate her, and with a twist of her power deftly removed his hand from her arm. Wide-eyed, he watched his hand float to his lap seemingly of its own accord, his look of astonishment almost comical. 

"I don't doubt that, Angel. But after Angelus's resurrection last year, you can't blame...people for worrying that you might do something, you know, insane." 

He shook his head as if in disbelief. "That was different. There were circumstances--" 

"There always are," Willow said sharply. 

"It was an apocalypse, damn it!" 

At that moment a waiter rounded a screen, carrying two plates. He stopped short and glanced from Willow to Angel. "Um, is this a bad time?" 

"No," growled Angel, still staring at her. 

The waiter gulped and plonked their meals down before beating a hasty retreat. Willow thanked the Goddess her poached salmon didn't end up in her lap. She glanced at Angel, whose dark eyes were boring into her, making her feel like a hapless Japanese confronting Godzilla. Taking a deep breath, she took a bite of her meal, chewing slowly to give them both time to compose themselves. 

She swallowed. "Angel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, but...you're in the midst of evil. That's gotta have some kind of effect on you. If Cordelia were here it would be different--she kept you grounded. But with her gone..." 

He blinked, and his angry mask cracked and melted away. "How'd you know that? About Cordelia and me." 

Uncertain how much to reveal, Willow hesitated. "Since I activated the slayers, I've been a lot more...connected. Sometimes I just know things." 

He regarded her with a touch of awe, which, coming from him, didn't sit well with her. "You touched something powerful, didn't you?" 

"Oh, yeah. It blew my socks off." Angel raised his eyebrows and she added, "But in a good way." 

He looked down for a second, then cast a hopeful glance at her. "Could you help her?" 

She knew without asking which 'her' he was referring to, and more than anything she wanted to say yes. "Oh, Angel. I wish I could, but wherever Cordelia is, she's beyond my reach." 

Confusion contorted his features. "You've already tried?" 

Willow nodded. "When we got word a while back, I tried to find her on the astral planes." She swallowed. "I couldn't." 

Angel's face fell and she felt his pain as if it were her own. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He tried to smile. "You should eat your dinner before it gets cold," he said, nodding at her meal. 

Taking his cue, she released his hand and returned to her salmon. She ate in silence while Angel brooded and ignored the rare steak before him. Finally he stirred. "So was it Buffy or Giles who put you up to it?" 

A piece of broccoli stuck in her throat and she hacked and coughed to dislodge it. Eyes glimmering with amusement, Angel offered her a glass of water. 

She threw him a dirty look as she accepted it. 

"Come on, Willow. I know it was one of them, maybe both." 

Try as she might, she couldn't prevent herself from twitching when he said the word 'both'. 

Angel smiled. "I thought so." 

"Hey, no fair. You tricked me," she said when she could talk again. 

Unrepentant, he tilted his head. "Then I guess we're even." 

She harrumphed. "They're..._concerned_, as any friend would be." 

He sighed. "I don't suppose either of them even considered that sending _you_ might not have been such a good idea." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Steepling his hands, he contemplated her for a moment. "I had a visit from Eve this afternoon." 

"Eve?" 

"She's my liaison to the senior partners." 

Willow mulled that over. "Evil?" 

He shrugged. "Jury's still out. But I'd err on the side of assuming she's definitely evil." 

"Sure," she said agreeably, "but since I plan to steer way clear of the senior partners I don't see..." Angel grimaced. "What?" 

He hesitated. "Eve suggested I offer you a job." 

"A job? Doing what?" 

"She didn't say." 

Willow quirked an eyebrow. "Would I get a company car?" 

"Willow!" 

"I'm just asking! Geez, Angel, relax. If you were human, you'd be having a seizure by now." 

"Willow, this is serious. The senior partners showing an interest in you is not a good thing. Trust me on that." 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _When did Angel turn into such a worrywart?_ "I get that. But since you're not gonna offer me a job and I wouldn't take it anyway--no offence, by the way--I don't think I have anything to worry about." She froze. _And I just jinxed myself big time._

Angel didn't seem convinced either. "All right. Well, I can't deny you can take of yourself. Just...be careful, okay?" 

"Yes, Dad." 

Narrowing his eyes, he leaned across the table. "Willow, you do understand I'm not just talking about your physical safety. These people--and I use the term loosely--will do everything in their power to corrupt you." 

A chill prickled her scalp and she dropped her facetious manner. "I understand, Angel," she said quietly, "and I'll be careful. But if Wolfram & Hart think they can corrupt me, they really don't know what they're up against." 

*** 

Angel dropped her off at her hotel, still trying to persuade her to stay with him even as she opened the car door. But she was firm in her refusal. It would be like sleeping in a nest of vipers. Plus she suspected Angel was in overprotective mode, and she wanted to discourage him. 

Willow had barely kicked off her shoes when she heard a knock at the door. "Yes?" 

A female voice answered, "Miss Rosenberg, may I speak with you? It's important." It sounded like the hotel receptionist. 

Groaning, Willow trudged to the door in her bare feet and opened it. 

A pert blonde smiled at her. "Hello, my name is Eve." 

*** 


	4. Part 3

*** 

Part 3 

"May I come in?" 

Willow studied the woman. The pretty blonde in the burgundy skirt and gold top was nothing like she'd expected. She was almost positive Eve was human, but there was a taint about her...a shadow that lingered about her aura. After a moment's hesitation she reached out with her magical senses...and met a solid wall. Eve was well protected, with shields not even Willow could breech, not without expending a great deal more energy than she wanted to. 

As if sensing Willow's incursion, Eve smiled and brushed past her. She sat gracefully on the cream bedspread and lounged back on her arms. 

Still holding the door open, Willow pivoted. "It's a little late for house calls, isn't it?" 

Eve glanced at her watch. "It's 9.15." 

Surprised, Willow checked her own watch. She recovered quickly and said, "Well, I'm an early-to-bed gal. And it's been a long day." Willow faked a yawn which turned into a real one and indicated her duffel bag, sitting by the bed. "And I still have to unpack, so if you don't mind..." 

Eve stared at her for a disconcertingly long moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you...uncomfortable. If you'd prefer to talk at the office, where you wouldn't be alone..." Her polite voice held a trace of condescension, and despite her offer she didn't shift from the bed. 

The door slammed shut by itself in an outward manifestation of Willow's anger. Cursing her momentary loss of control, she clamped down on her power, acutely aware of Eve's smug expression. _Oh, great. I just fell for a six-year-old's taunt. Angel's gonna kill me._

She went over to the bed, trying to avoid glancing at the ankle boots next to her bag. Although she was looking down at Eve, she felt distinctly disadvantaged in her bare feet. But putting on her boots would feel like an admission of weakness, so instead she crossed her arms and glared. "Okay, you wanna talk, let's talk. But I can tell you right now that I'm not interested in joining Wolfram & Hart's payroll." 

"And I'm not here to offer you a job." 

Taken aback, Willow scrunched up her face. "Well, then..." 

Straightening, Eve gazed up at her. "The senior partners are ready, as soon as you give us the word, to assign any one of our offices over to you--with the exception of Los Angeles, for obvious reasons." 

Willow's jaw dropped. "What? Why?" 

"They think you're an asset worth cultivating. Think about it, Miss Rosenberg. We have branches in London, Cairo, Hong Kong, Paris...to name just a few in _this_ dimension." 

"Paris..." She imagined strolling along the Champs Elysee...viewing the city from the Eiffel Tower...browsing the Louvre. Glimpsing Eve's smirk, she caught herself and snapped, "I don't need Wolfram & Hart to go to Paris." 

"Maybe not. But I think you'll find our resources are far more extensive than what you can currently access." 

"Look, maybe in your world, people can be bought with the promise of money and power, but I don't need your money and I have all the power I need. It'll take more than a first-class ticket to Paris to buy me off." Willow reconsidered her choice of words. "I mean, you can't buy me off," she amended. 

Eve nodded, as if she'd expected that response. "There's more." 

Willow sighed. "You people don't hear the word 'no' very often, do you?" 

"Not from anyone who wants to continue living," Eve said sweetly. 

Matching her tone, Willow said, "Save your threats for someone who _can't_ turn you into a rat." 

Eve laughed as if she'd made the funniest joke ever. "Oh, that wasn't a threat. I was just stating a fact." 

Grimacing, Willow glanced over her shoulder at the door. "Feel free to leave now." 

The bed creaked as Eve rose. "As you wish." She bypassed Willow and hesitated at the door. "But you haven't heard everything we're offering." 

Willow spun around. "Am I talking to myself here? I thought I made it clear that I don't want anything from you." 

"And what about your friend Alexander?" 

Her heartbeat accelerated. "Stay away from Xander." 

Eve flicked her hand. "Oh, we don't want to hurt your friend. On the contrary, we can help him." 

"Help him? Just how gullible do you think I am?" 

Unoffended, Eve smiled. "With our resources, you could give him his eye back. Make him whole again." 

Willow inhaled a sharp breath. From what she knew of Wolfram & Hart, she had no doubt the firm could make good on that promise. And she found the thought unbearably painful. Her dear friend Xander, who'd lost so much. In the last few months, watching him struggle to rebuild his life, there were times she would have traded her soul to ease his suffering. The irony brought tears to her eyes and she turned away. "Xander wouldn't ask me to make that sacrifice." 

"Would it be so much of a sacrifice?" asked Eve, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "Think of all the good you could accomplish, the people you could help. You'd have an army of assistants to help all those new slayers." 

Willow's anger reignited and she whirled. "You're not getting your claws into the slayers. You're not getting anywhere near them." 

Looking very much the injured party, Eve sighed. "I understand it's hard for you to trust us--" 

She snorted. "And the prize for understatement of the year goes to..." 

Ignoring her, Eve continued, "But you trust Angel, don't you?" 

"Yes," Willow said slowly, wondering where this was going. 

"So you must trust his judgement." 

"Oh, right. So if this is good enough for him, it must be good enough for me?" 

"Something like that," Eve said, tilting her head. 

"Look, I don't know what kind of deal you made with Angel, but I know it involved more than a cushy office and the opportunity to bathe in the sun." 

Eve's girl-next-door exterior hardened into a more calculating expression as she reappraised Willow. "You're right. We offered him something he couldn't refuse." 

Setting her hands on her hips, Willow said, "Well, there's nothing--" 

"Tara Maclay." 

"What?" Willow's stomach turned to ice. 

"We can bring her back," Eve said, watching her intently. 

Willow was overwhelmed by a burning rage she hadn't felt since the day Tara died. Only this time there was no dark magic coursing through her veins to fuel the fire--fortunately for Eve. Trembling, Willow took a deep breath, in through her nose and out her mouth. Then another. And another. Until she could speak without losing control. 

"Don't say her name," she said in a cold voice she hardly recognised as her own. "Ever." 

"Is that a no?" 

"That's a: get out before you start sprouting fur and a long tail." 

Eve's eyes flickered. 

Willow strode forward and felt a thrill of satisfaction when the other woman retreated, flattening her back against the door. "You know, you might wanna reevaluate your career path to hell," Willow said, "because if your employers sent you here to try to push me over the edge, they obviously don't value your services very highly." 

Eve straightened but couldn't quite look Willow in the eye. "I assure you the offer is genuine." 

"And all I have to do is sign over my soul. No, thanks." 

Eve laughed a little nervously. "Oh no, you wouldn't lose your soul. You'd just be collecting them." 

Willow grit her teeth. Magic energy tingled beneath her skin; all she had to do was wiggle her fingers... _Man, sometimes it sucks being the good guy_. 

With a casual wave, Eve opened the door and left. "You know where to find me if you change your mind." 

Willow closed the door softly. Her knees buckled and she sank to the plush carpet, pressing her forehead against the smooth painted surface of the door. The tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed returned with a vengeance. As they trickled down her face, she closed her eyes and was lost in her memories. 

***   



	5. Part 4

*** 

Part 4 

Willow woke from scattered dreams shortly after dawn. She lay in bed as the room grew brighter, drifting in the nebulous territory between sleep and consciousness. Fragmented images skittered through the landscape of her mind until she abruptly found herself reliving the day Spike 'died'--reliving it from his perspective. Cold sweat blanketed her body as she felt his death all over again and she shuddered, wondering how she could ever have forgotten. 

Now, free of distractions, she explored every detail of the memory. She recalled everything, including wishing she could save Spike. Willow snuggled under the sheets, shaking her head in confusion. She may have had the intent, but as spaced out as she was at the time there was no way she could have pulled it off. Which meant... Rolling over, Willow groaned into the pillow; she didn't have a clue what it meant. 

After dozing a while longer she got up and dragged herself into the bathroom. Leaning heavily on the vanity, she stared at her pale reflection. Part of her wanted to get right back into bed and mope the day away, but she knew the sooner she fixed Spike, the sooner she could get out of Los Angeles. But although she remembered witnessing his death, she remained unclear about what had happened to Spike or the part she'd played; which left her with only one option. Looking herself in the eye, she nodded decisively and set about getting washed and dressed. 

The morning was sunny and not too hazy so she strolled to the office, stopping for a hasty breakfast of blueberry muffins and decaf on the way. By the time she arrived at Wolfram & Hart her mood had lightened, and she strode through the lobby eager to put her plans into motion. After asking for directions to Wesley's office she headed straight there, and found him engrossed in a huge leather-covered tome. 

"Wesley, hi." 

"Willow, how lovely to see you again," he said, getting up from his desk to greet her. Judging from his stubble he was still in his Marlboro Man phase, despite the corporate environment. As he grasped her hand he frowned. "Are you all right? You look a little..." 

"Hag-like?" she said dryly. 

"I was going to say under the weather." 

She flicked her hand. "I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night, strange bed and all." 

"Hmm," he said, looking sceptical. But he dropped the subject and steered her to a comfy couch by the transparent wall. "What can I do for you?" 

"Fred tells me you've gotten bupkus from researching the amulet." 

Wesley sank onto the armrest of the couch and looked down at her. "That's correct." 

She cocked her head. "That's a little strange, isn't it? Considering your many minions and all the mystical resources at your disposal." 

"I suppose it is," he said evenly. 

Reaching out with her magic, she established a link between their minds, just deep enough that she could read his surface thoughts. She was skating on thin moral ice here but she needed to know if she could trust him. Willow took a deep breath. "So is Wolfram & Hart holding out on you, or are you holding out on me?" 

He flinched, but met her gaze. "I'm not holding out on anyone." 

She sensed with relief that he was telling the truth and nodded. "Good, cause I'm gonna need your help." 

Wesley seemed surprised she'd accepted his assurance so easily, but said only, "I doubt my magical ability is anywhere near your level." 

"That doesn't matter. I just need to know if I can count on you." 

He studied her for a long moment as though he could read her thoughts--had he shared her magical talents he could very well have used the link to do so--and squared his shoulders. "You can." 

Satisfied, she pared down the link so she was no longer intruding on his mind and projected her mind voice into his psyche. _Wesley?_

His eyebrows twitched in response and Willow smiled. 

_This is what I need you to do..._

*** 

Harmony beamed as Willow approached her desk. "Willow! I was just thinking we should get together and catch up. You know, reminisce about the good old days." 

Willow blinked. "Oh, yeah, they were...fun times." _If you weren't me._

"Great. How about tonight?" 

"Er, Harmony, I'd love to take that rollercoaster down memory lane with you, but I'm busy tonight. Maybe some other time?" _Like never._

The vampire's enthusiasm diminished. "Sure, whatever." She began shuffling files on her desk in a half-hearted fashion. 

_Geez, how insane is it that I'm feeling guilty about hurting _Harmony's_ feelings?_ Willow hurried into Angel's office before she gave in to the urge to apologise. She stopped short when she saw he wasn't alone. 

Eve turned and chirped, "Hey, there. Sleep well?" 

Willow shot her the dirtiest look she could summon. 

"Willow," said Angel, rising from his chair, "this is--" 

"We've met," Willow said, advancing into the office but keeping her distance from Eve. 

His eyes narrowed. "When?" 

"It's okay, Angel. I handled it." 

Eve stage whispered, "You know, she really did. You should reconsider; she'd be a great addition to the team." 

He growled. "This meeting is over." 

Unruffled, Eve tossed her hair and left the office swinging her hips. 

Willow watched her go. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say she's evil." 

Angel came over to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "What happened?" His perceptive gaze lingered on her features, no doubt noting the tangible signs of her encounter with Eve. 

She knocked his hands away and paced to the window, staring at the neighbouring skyscrapers. "Nothing for you to get all grrr about." 

"But, Willow--" 

The rage and frustration she'd suppressed broke loose and she whirled. "Angel, cut it out! You said it yourself--I can take care of myself--so stop with the helping the helpless routine, okay?" 

Hurt flashed in his eyes and her anger morphed into shame, but no matter how much she regretted lashing out at him she couldn't bring herself to apologise; she was tired of being mollycoddled. 

Spike materialised through a wall and drawled, "Score one for the witch." Angel's jaw clenched. 

"Not now, Spike," she said wearily. 

"What's the matter, luv? Is it that special time of the month?" he said with mock sympathy. Then he _sniffed_. 

_Ewww!_ Gritting her teeth, Willow glared at him. "Spike, you might wanna remember I'm here to help you." 

He pouted. "Just having a bit of fun, is all. Not like I can actually smell anything." 

"Well, a cranky witch is a sloppy witch, so quit it." 

Spike levelled an unrepentant stare at her. "In light of the fact that you've done jack since you got here, frankly, I'm not all that bothered." 

Willow's temper flared, and pins and needles ran up her spine and down her arms as her magic responded to her subconscious call. Spike's eyes widened and he fell back a step. 

"Hey, time out, guys," Angel said as he imposed himself between them. "Let's all just...take it down a notch, okay?" 

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself Angel and Spike were her friends. Lately it seemed as if everyone, friend and foe alike, was pushing her buttons. "Right, cause we've got more important things to fight about." 

Smiling slightly, Angel said, "Such as?" 

She looked at him. "For one thing, I need the amulet." 

He stared at her, then rounded his desk and opened a drawer to retrieve a medallion on a chain. Retracing his steps, he tossed it to her as he perched on the edge of his desk. 

Spike perked up. "You've found a way to make me solid again?" 

"Not exactly." 

He frowned. "Then what..." 

Avoiding his gaze, Willow examined the amulet, tracing the ornate design with her fingertips. "See, the thing is, technically, you're dead." 

Smirking, Spike shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hate to break it to you, Willow, but that's nothing new." 

"You know what I mean--not vampire dead, poofy dead." 

"I'm not a poof!" Spike's eyes flashed yellow. 

Angel chuckled. "I beg to differ." 

"Sod off." 

Willow cleared her throat. "What I'm trying to say is, your body was dusted. I can't bring you back." 

"Course you can, luv. Powerful witch like you. All you have to do is wiggle your nose." 

"It's not a question of power, Spike. It's just wrong. Look at all the badness that happened when I brought Buffy back from the dead." 

Frowning, Spike slunk over to stand in front of her. "Buffy was in heaven. I, clearly, am not," he said, glaring at Angel. 

Peering up at Spike, Willow saw the panic lurking in his blue eyes and bit her lip. Spike had a point--he was a unique case. On the other hand, she was only human and she didn't have the right to decide who lived or died. It had been a painful lesson--one learned at the expense of her best friend--but it was now ingrained in her as deeply as her magic. She didn't think she could restore Spike even if she wanted to. 

"I'm sorry, Spike." 

He spun away from her, his duster twirling up and ghosting through her legs. "Oh, _now_ you decide to get all righteous. Well, what about me? You can't leave me like this." 

"I'm not going to." 

Spike froze in mid-tantrum. "What?" 

"I may not be able to make you corporeal, but there are others who can," she said. 

"Oh, yeah?" 

Angel's forehead crinkled. "What do you mean, others?" 

"I mean...a higher power." 

"A higher power? Like, say, the Powers That Be?" said Angel, levering himself off his desk. 

With growing trepidation, she watched his face light up. _Darn it, I should've skedaddled as soon as I had the amulet._ "It's, er, probably better if you don't know too much." 

Angel continued as if he hadn't heard her. "This is great. I can get a little one on one time with them too, right?" 

"Lay off, you wanker," said Spike. "This is my party, remember?" 

Willow held up a hand. "Spike, why don't you wait for me in Wesley's office?" He began to protest but she displayed her resolve face and he subsided. _Hah! I've still got it. _ With a sniff he disappeared through a wall. 

Awkward silence ensued, then she sat on the leather couch and beckoned Angel to join her. Once he was seated beside her, Willow closed her eyes and focused, shaping and directing her magical energy to create a cocoon around them. "Sonor. Saeptum. Aedifico." The words gave her power form and the barrier crystallised, cutting off the bustle of the outer office. Opening her eyes, she saw Angel shiver and scrub the back of his neck. 

"What'd you do?" he asked. 

"Made sure no one can spy on us." Common sense dictated she try to conserve as much energy as possible, but knowing he was likely to be upset, Willow wanted to keep this conversation private. 

Squinting, Angel scanned the room as if he could see the spell. "You sure you don't want a job?" She scowled and he muttered, "No one appreciates my sense of humour." 

Willow placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Angel, but you can't be there when I make contact." 

"What? Why?" 

She hesitated. "Spike's right. I need to focus on him. I'm going to be invoking a lot of power, and I can't afford to be distracted just because you're having a Dear Abby moment." 

Angel looked as though he'd swallowed spoilt blood. "You could at least think about it for a microsecond before you shut me down." 

"I _have_ thought about it, and if I could help you both I would, but..." She gave him a helpless shrug. 

Dejected, he turned his back on her. "So he's more important than I am, is that it?" 

"No, that's not it." Exasperated by his woe-is-me attitude, Willow grabbed his lapel and yanked him around to face her. "Angel, I'm somehow responsible for Spike's second coming. I _have_ to help him." 

Doleful brown eyes gazed at her. "What about me?" 

Damn it, he was going to make her say it. She swallowed but didn't look away. "You had a choice. Spike didn't." There was that look again. _God, I hope he doesn't barf on me. Does blood come out of suede..._

"He put on the amulet," Angel said, with a touch of desperation. 

"But he didn't choose to come back," she said gently. 

His shoulders slumped and he inched away from her. "But I need to know what to do...I need guidance." 

"No, you don't." Willow ducked her head so she could look him in the eye. "Angel, you're one of the strongest people I know. Heck, you survived _hell_. Trust me, you don't need anyone to tell you what to do. You just need to remember who you are." 

He didn't react. 

With a heavy heart she stood and patted his shoulder. "I have to go--errands and research and...stuff you really don't care about. I'll see you later, okay?" He said nothing. After a moment's hesitation she dispersed the spell and headed for the door. 

"Willow?" 

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. 

Angel attempted a smile. "Good luck." 

Willow smiled back. "Thanks." 

*** 


	6. Part 5

Thanks for the reviews. :) Just one more part to go. 

*** 

Part 5 

Still fretting about Angel, Willow wandered into Wesley's office. As soon as he spotted her, Spike stopped pacing and said, "You didn't let Angel weasel his way onto my bandwagon, did you?" 

Willow rolled her eyes. "Relax, Spike. You're still the belle of the ball." She glanced over at Wesley, who was seated at his desk. "Any questions?" 

He tapped a pen on a notepad. "No. But I am a little concerned that you'll be leaving yourself open to--" 

"Trust me, Wes, I know what I'm doing." 

"Yeah, she knows what she's doing," Spike said with an enthusiastic head waggle in her direction. He paused. "Er, what exactly are you doing?" 

Feeling a touch giddy from the spell she'd performed, Willow plopped down on the couch. "Don't worry your little head about it, Spike." His eyebrows shot up. "It's a done deal. All you have to do is show up." A thought occurred to her. "Oh, and you might wanna work on your speech." 

He frowned as if trying to work out the punchline. "Speech?" 

"Did I forget to mention that?" she said, sporting an innocent face. 

Spike's jaw tightened. "What speech?" 

She sat forward, resting elbows on knees. "It's not like we're going to a wishing well. You're gonna have to convince the Powers to make you corporeal. They won't do it without good reason." 

Spike placed his hands on his hips, the picture of indignation. "Let me get this straight: I save the world, and now I have to get down on my knees and beg?" 

"Don't be so melodramatic, Spike; you won't have to kneel. And a word of advice--be nice." 

"Nice?" Wesley said. "Is that possible?" 

"Hey!" Spike glared at him. "I can be bloody nice when I want to be." He stomped over to Willow and pinned her with his look of death. She didn't have the heart to tell him his death glare had passed its use-by date a few years ago. "I thought you were all cosy with the Powers. Why can't you make with the chit-chat?" 

Fed up with his whining, she stood. "Because I'm gonna be high as a kite, maybe even a blimp, so I doubt anything coherent will be coming out of my mouth." He tried to interrupt but she talked right over him. "Look, we don't have to do this. You can spend the rest of your days haunting this delightful establishment, hanging around Angel, unable to beat the living daylights out of--" 

He growled. "You've made your point." 

Wesley's hand hovered before his mouth, masking a grin. She winked at him. "So everything's all set?" she asked. 

"All set," Wesley said with a nod. "And you're certain your plan will work?" 

Tilting her head, she considered for a moment and smiled. "Nope. But it's probably our best chance." 

Smacking his forehead, Spike muttered something about being doomed. 

"So I'll see you guys tonight. Don't be late." With a cheery wave, Willow headed out the door. 

*** 

Willow spent the rest of the day trawling half a dozen magic shops in LA. None of the shops stocked the rare items she was looking for, but then she hadn't expected them to. Her shopping list was a cover so she could touch base with an old friend of Giles without drawing attention. 

As she walked back to her hotel, her stomach churned with anticipation. She could have put it down to nerves but she knew it was more than that. She hadn't performed any major magic since she'd empowered the slayers, and truth be told she'd missed the rush, the sensation of every cell in her body purring. 

In the hectic days after they'd beaten back the First, Willow had been content to bask in the afterglow with her loved ones, happy to be alive. They'd mourned the fallen, and set about reorganising the Watchers Council. It was a while before she realised how much the empowering spell had changed her--the power she'd channelled had purified her, cleansed her of the taint of dark magic. She wasn't immune to it, but she no longer had to worry about walking the knife-edge every time she exercised her magic. The revelation had brought overwhelming relief, and at the same time a sense of loss. She'd spent so long fighting the temptation of dark magic, she didn't know what to do with herself when the fight was over. 

And so she'd allowed the administrative work to claim more and more of her time, all the while denying what she was. It had been so easy to tell herself she was being useful, even as she grew more and more disgruntled with both the work and her friends. 

After performing the spell in Angel's office, Willow knew she was through deluding herself. That small taste of magic had reminded her of what she'd been missing, and though nervous, she was looking forward to the stimulation of working some major mojo. 

When she reached the hotel she went straight up to her room and packed her stuff. While she waited she practised several breathing exercises and mentally rehearsed the incantation she was planning to use. Half an hour before sunset, Willow checked out of the hotel and got into the car waiting for her. 

*** 

The last light of the day had just faded from the western sky. Spike paced, every once in a while checking on Wesley, who knelt on the grass arranging fat white candles in a circle. A breeze rustled the trees encircling the grove where he stood, and if he closed his eyes Spike could almost feel the air moving on his skin. In the distance, children complained as their parents escorted them from the park. This was a public space, but they were in a secluded spot perfect for romantic couples or, from another perspective, mugging the tourists. 

He craved a cigarette; it would help take the edge off. Although, if he could smoke he wouldn't need to be here in the first place, he acknowledged with a rueful grin. He glanced at Wesley; Stiff Upper Lip kept shooting apprehensive looks into the trees. 

"They're not going to go away just cause you keep looking at 'em, you know," Spike said. 

Wesley shrugged. "I know. I can't help it." He cast an inquisitive look at Spike. "Do you know how many there are?" 

"Four heartbeats...other than yours." 

"Hmm," was all Wesley said. 

Spike noted that, despite his anxiety, Wesley didn't look at all surprised. "How'd you know they were there?" Spike said, scrutinising his fellow Brit. 

"It hardly takes a genius to imagine the senior partners would be curious enough to send spies." 

Spike opened his mouth to ask why they weren't leaving, but an odd tingling invaded his chest. Frowning, he looked down, then around the grove. Still no Willow, so what could be causing... 

"Something wrong, Spike?" 

The tingling spread through his entire body, transforming into a tugging sensation, and he realised what was happening. "Something's got me," he yelped, closing his eyes and focusing all his energy into resisting the pull. 

"Spike!" 

He snapped his eyes open and found Wesley standing before him. 

"Spike, it's all right. It's Willow." 

"How d'you know?" 

"Because she bloody well warned me, you twit! Now let go." 

Spike wasn't nearly as certain as Wesley, but the pull was growing stronger and he was slipping. Cursing, Spike realised he had no choice but to trust that Wesley was right, and he stopped fighting. Wesley and the grove swirled into a blur and evolved into a walled garden alive with greenery. Spike sought and, to his relief, spotted Willow a few feet away. Eyes closed, she was clutching the amulet in an outstretched hand. Her eyes opened and she smiled when she saw him. 

"Red, what's with the beam-me-up shenanigans?" 

"I don't like performing with an audience," Willow said absently as she turned to a woman with long grey hair. "I've got it. Thanks." 

With a soft, "May the Goddess guide you," the woman left, her bare feet crunching the grass towards a mansion at the far end of the garden. 

Spike stared after her. "Who's Mother Earth?" 

"Hmm? Oh, that's Claire, she's the leader of the coven." Willow looped the amulet around her neck. 

Pivoting, he felt more confused than ever. "Coven? Where are we? What's going--" 

"Spike!" She waited until he was facing her. "There'll be time for the debriefing later. Right now, all you need to know is that you can trust Claire. Are you ready?" Taking a wide-legged stance, Willow held her open hands away from her body. 

"Uh, shouldn't there be a circle?" 

Sighing, she let her hands drop. "No need. The grounds are consecrated and the garden is shielded." Sympathy glowed in her eyes, telling him she recognised his delaying tactic for what it was. "Now, are you ready?" she said softly. 

Everything was happening so fast. He wished he'd spent more time preparing instead of grilling Wesley about Willow's plan. Too late for that now. Knowing this could be his last chance to become corporeal again, Spike gritted his teeth and nodded. 

She began chanting. The words were gibberish to him, but they sounded old...ancient. As if it had a life of its own, her hair rose and danced about her head. He sensed the energy building in the air and began to squirm. Body or no body, he could feel the magic penetrating him, stinging his insides. Just when he thought he couldn't stand it any longer, he was blinded by a flash and heard a loud crack. Willow stopped chanting, and when he recovered his vision he saw she was floating several inches off the ground. Her hair glowed white and she regarded him with fiery eyes. 

Spike hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. But the decision was taken from him when Willow spoke, her voice taking on an imperious tone that wasn't hers. 

"Vampire, why have you summoned us?" 

"Isn't it bleeding obvious?" he said without thinking. Recalling Willow's admonition, he winced. But the expected backlash never came so he continued, trying to restrain his temper. "I want to know what happened to me. I want my body back." 

"You wish to take back your sacrifice?" Her voice echoed in the still air. 

"No, that's not what I--" Frustrated, he pounded his chest. "How did I get like this?" 

Willow tilted her head. He had the impression the entities within her were consulting each other. "You were a puzzle: a soul that did not breathe, a demon who murdered innocents yet sacrificed himself, a champion forged from obsession and desire. We knew not what to do with you." 

Spike's temper flared; what kind of stupid answer was that? "So you made me a ghost?" 

"In the moment of indecision, a will made itself known." 

"A will...Willow. You're talking about Willow." 

"The witch whose body we inhabit...yes. She wished...and we executed." 

Snorting, he shook his head. Figured. "But why like this? Why didn't you leave me as I was?" 

"We did, vampire. Your shell was gone--all that remained was your essence, and this we bound to the artifact." 

Tugging his hair, Spike paced, aware of the unearthly gaze upon him. "Can you restore my...shell now?" 

"Why would we do this?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's the right thing to do!" 

Again there was no response to his outburst, other than a pause while the entities chatted amongst themselves. It was a wonder they got anything done. He worried his lower lip, brooding over what he was going to do if they refused to help him. 

"What do you offer in return?" they asked. 

"Eh." Willow hadn't said anything about a bargain, and somehow he didn't think they'd be interested in a beat-up leather coat. Revealing his open hands, he said, "I have nothing." 

"Wrong, vampire. You have your life." 

He blinked. "Wait a sec. If I offer you my life, than what do I get..." Realisation washed over him like a bad smell, and he began shaking his head. "Oh no. No way. I'm not gonna be one of your champions." 

"You wish a life without purpose?" 

"I've _got_ a purpose; it involves drinking, shagging, and spilling blood. What it doesn't involve is saving damsels in distress--that's Angel's gig." 

Willow's eyes momentarily brightened, then she inclined her head. "Very well. We will depart." 

"Whoa! Hold on." Bugger it. It looked as if he wasn't going to be able to bluff his way out of this one. "So that's it? If I don't do your dirty work, you're going to leave me like this?" 

Unruffled, Willow watched him with an inscrutable expression. "There is a price to be paid." 

"And if I refuse to pay?" Spike said, raising an eyebrow. 

"You will remain as you are--without form." 

Spike growled; it was blackmail, pure and simple. Unfortunately, he was in no position to negotiate. "All right, damn it!" 

Willow's eyes blazed. Without warning, an arc of pure white flame erupted from the amulet around her neck and hit him squarely in the chest. He didn't even have time to react before agony ripped through him, causing his back to arch involuntarily. He hung, suspended for what seemed like forever as raw power scorched him from the inside out. It felt as if he was dying all over again. 

The pain was abruptly cut off. Spike's knees collapsed and he toppled face down on the ground, where he lay waiting for the feeling to return to his limbs. The scent of fresh tender grass wafted up his nose and he dug his fingers into the soil, savouring its crumbly texture and loamy fragrance. He felt exhilarated; it'd bloody fucking worked! The witch had pulled it off. Speaking of Willow... 

Spike rolled to his feet and his dead heart spasmed when he saw Willow crumpled in a heap. She was unconscious. 

*** 


	7. Part 6

Thanks to everyone who's continued reading this far. And an especially big thank you to those who reviewed--you helped keep me going. :) 

------ 

Part 6 

Willow sprinted down the deserted corridor. She was late for class and didn't want to screw up her perfect attendance record. Panting, she reached the classroom and threw open the door. 

The room was empty. Weird. She looked up and down the corridor, only now noticing the eerie silence, the way her breath echoed in the still air. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was the only person in the entire school. 

_Maybe it's Saturday. _She shook her head._ Wow, I must be really out of it if I came to school on a Saturday._

Still, something didn't feel right. Willow turned and began trotting towards the library, hoping to find Giles. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be him. She stopped short. Wait, hadn't they blown up the high school? And wasn't Sunnydale now a giant crater? She pivoted in place, studying the walls and lockers. Everywhere she looked objects began to warp and melt, bleeding into each other. _Uh oh. I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore._ She noticed her outfit for the first time--an orange mini-skirt and a red tee-shirt. _Okaaay_. 

Glass cracked and Willow whipped her head up. Oozing through the exterior windows was a black cloud that seemed transparent but radiated a sentience alien to her. The light in the corridor dimmed. Fascinated, she watched it accumulate into a large amorphous shape. It began to shift shape, and she recognised the Master, Moloch, Adam, and countless other demons she'd helped vanquish in its constantly changing mass. Her stomach curdled. _This can't be good._

It started towards her. 

Instinctively, she focused her magical energies...only to discover she had none. She was completely out of juice. _Oh, crap._ Pinpricks ran down her spine and she backed away. 

Willow had counted on the sanctity of the retreat to shield her from attacks of this nature. She hadn't expected to be vulnerable on the astral planes, in her own dreamscape no less. Obviously a huge miscalculation on her part--which could end up being her last. She grimaced. _Yay, me!_

The shadows crept closer. She was sure of only one thing--she couldn't allow it to touch her, to infect her with its malevolence. Acting on reflex, Willow spun around and raced to the library. _Please be there--Giles, Buffy, anyone..._ Heart pounding, she hurtled through the swing doors like a battering ram. 

Wearing a tweed suit she hadn't seen in years, Giles strolled out of his office engrossed in a book. 

"Giles!" Arms flailing, she dashed towards him. 

He glanced at her. "Oh, Willow, there you are. I need some help with--" 

"No time for that now. We've got incoming!" 

Giles strolled to the table, already reabsorbed in his book. "Incoming?" 

"Evil...dark...somethings," she sputtered. 

She finally seemed to have caught his attention. He looked up at her, tut-tutting. "Really, Willow, surely you can describe it better than that?" 

She threw her hands in the air. "Giles, could we have a little less critiquing and a little more panicking?" 

Chuckling, he placed the book on the table. "Don't be silly, Willow. They can't hurt me--I'm not real." 

She stared. "Er, yeah, good point. Well, maybe you could help me find a spell or something," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Like, now." 

"My dear girl, what good is a spell without the power to invoke it?" 

Her mouth fell open. _Oh, man. DreamGiles is a pompous ass._ She clenched her fists. "Fine. If I can't do a spell, what can I do?" 

He stepped closer, smiling kindly. "The answer is in here," he said, gently tapping her temple. Without another word he faded into nothingness just as the doors creaked open. Not taking the time to look, Willow bounded up the stairs, making for the back exit. She threw the door open and froze. Black, smoky images of Glory and Machida blocked her escape route. 

_Oh, great!_ She slammed the door shut and scrambled back to the central area. The shadows had breached the library. Sucking up the light, they glided towards her as if they had all the time in the world. Sweat trickled down her face. On the verge of outright panic, she literally ran in circles trying to pull a miracle out of her ass. _Work, brain, work!_ Giles's words echoed in her head, mocking her it seemed. _The answer is in my head? What the hell does that mean?_

Just when she thought she was a goner, it came to her in a rush--there was still one source of power she had access to. Wasting no more time, she sent out a call for help as the darkness surrounded her. As her fortress fell under the blanket of night all she heard were her own harsh breaths. 

And then they answered her call. 

Like avenging angels, the spirits of slayers past leapt seemingly out of nowhere to encircle her, sheathed in radiant light that reclaimed the library from the dark. With stake and sword and axe, they fought back the shadows, keeping them at bay. As she took a deep breath, Willow realised they'd keep fighting until she recovered enough strength to protect herself. 

Eyes watering from the brilliant light, she watched the slayers fearlessly battle their foes with skill and precision. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she thought she glimpsed Kendra's lithe form among the warriors and heard the slayer's distinctive accent among the battle cries. 

Willow smiled. 

------ 

She woke with a start. Toasty warm, Willow discovered she was tucked between lavender-scented sheets. Heavy drapes covered the windows, shrouding the room in darkness. She tried to sit up but her head spun. 

"Easy, luv." 

"Spike?" 

"Yeah." 

She lay back down and blinked until she could make out a man-shaped shadow seated on her right. "It worked?" Her throat felt scratchy. 

Spike chuckled. "Yeah, it worked." Through the gloom Willow saw him stretch and heard the flick of a switch. A warm orange glow lit the bedroom. "Like a charm. How do you feel?" 

She clutched her head. "Ask me tomorrow...when my brain doesn't feel all squishy." 

He chuckled again and leaned towards the nightstand to pour a glass of water. Slipping an arm under her shoulders, he lifted her so she could sip from the glass. Once her thirst was sated, he lay her down again. 

Willow had the strangest feeling she'd forgotten something, but she couldn't pinpoint it. _Oh, well, it couldn't have been that important._ Just as she was beginning to relax, images from her dream whirled through her mind and she bolted upright. 

"Red?" 

"I'm okay. I..." Desperate to reassure herself that she was awake, she groped for his hand and pinched it. Hard. 

"Ow!" He snatched his hand back. "What the hell was that for?" 

"Just checking." 

"I already told you the spell worked!" 

"Not that. I was..." Willow trailed off, unwilling to share the details of her "dream". "I wanted to make sure I was awake." 

Rubbing his hand, he scowled at her. "Then you pinched the wrong body." 

She thought for a moment. "Oh...yeah. Sorry 'bout that. I guess I'm still pretty loopy from the spell." 

His expression flipped from annoyed to solemn in the blink of an eye. "Yeah. Look, I know you risked a lot for me. And no matter what you think, you didn't owe me a damn thing." Spike's gaze wandered the room before settling on her. "You gave me a second chance, Willow--I won't forget it." His deep voice held a tenderness she'd never heard him display with anyone other than Buffy. 

Touched by his sincerity, Willow smiled warmly. "Hey, we're friends, aren't we?" 

He hesitated. "Yeah, we're friends." 

"Well, friends help each other out." 

Nodding, he said, "They do at that." 

She closed her eyes for a moment and shifted her attention inwards, relieved to discover her magical reserves partly restored. Although she still felt as if she'd been dragged facedown through hell. 

Spike rose to his feet. "You should get some more shuteye. I'm just gonna grab some blood and then I'll be back." 

"Okay. You know, you don't have to stay. I mean, here at the retreat. I'm safe here." 

Spike shook his head. "No, I'll wait until you're ready to leave. I've got eternity, remember?" he said, his tone slightly self-mocking. 

Willow yawned as she snuggled under the quilt. "Okay. Just don't eat anyone, all right?" 

He switched off the lamp. "All right, luv." 

Eyes closed and sinking into the welcoming embrace of snoozeville, she barely heard him. But a few seconds later she was jerked into wakefulness by a thud and a muffled curse. "Spike?" 

His embarrassed voice came to her in the dark. "Nothing to worry about. I, er, forgot to open the door." 

She snickered. "Yeah, those doorknobs can be real tricky." 

A growl. "Watch it, Red." 

"Yeah, yeah." Willow rolled over and closed her eyes again. "You're so gonna bite me." 

As she drifted into a dreamless sleep, she thought she heard him say, "Friends don't bite, Willow." 

------ 

She lay on a chaise lounge, sipping peppermint tea and watching the sunset. Just a few more hours and Spike would be driving her to the airport. Willow was aware of a pervading sense of peace that had nothing to do with the sanctuary in which she rested. She felt more in tune with the Earth than she had in months and she knew it was because of the spell. 

Her magic was so strong, sometimes she wondered if it would live on after she died. To possess that much power and not use it would be, at best, irresponsible. Willow set her mug on the grass and lay her head back, recalling the day she'd told Buffy she was staying in Sunnydale so she could devote her life to fighting evil. She'd been so confident. _The confidence that comes with naivety,_ she thought, musing on her lost innocence with longing and regret. 

The sky deepened and the stars became visible as night-blooming jasmine scented the warm air. She heard the flick of a lighter behind her and knew who it was without having to look. 

"Finished packing?" asked Spike. 

Swivelling her head, Willow grinned. "Sure. Took me all of five minutes since I didn't have much to begin with." She observed him step through the open French doors with amusement; Claire had threatened to stake him if he smoked in the house, and though he'd made a big song and dance about it, he'd eventually conceded to her wishes. 

Spike had never struck her as the nurturing type but he'd stuck around, watching over her while she slept, bringing her meals, and, to her eternal embarrassment, even helping her to the bathroom. And she didn't think his motive was purely due to gratitude. 

He circled her and perched on the foot of the lounge. "So I guess there's no point giving you a message for Buffy." 

"No..." She stared. "How'd you know?" 

Shrugging, he exhaled a stream of smoke. "You look like a woman who's going places." 

"Really?" Willow fixed him with an interrogative stare. 

Spike snorted. "All right, so I heard you on the phone with Paingel." He tugged his ear lobe. "Vampire, remember?" 

"Eavesdropping isn't very polite." 

He flashed her a wicked grin. "Vampire, remember?" 

Willow giggled. Tilting her head back, she studied the stars, joining the dots in random patterns. "You don't need me to talk to Buffy, you know," she said. After a long silence she looked at him. His face was turned away from her, and in profile his pose was remarkably similar to _The Thinker._ Going on instinct, she waited him out. 

"Is she happy?" he said at last. 

"Yes, I think she is," Willow said carefully. 

He puffed on the cigarette and flicked the stub into her mug. "Best let her be, then." 

She wanted to offer sympathy, wanted to tell him she was proud of his unselfish gesture, but she had the feeling that was the last thing he wanted. So she returned to her contemplation of the heavens, allowing the crickets to take centre stage. 

After a while, Spike stirred. "What about your bird?" 

"Kennedy? I'm hoping she'll understand this is something I need to do." 

"Doesn't mean you have to do it alone." 

She considered his words, tempted to let him sway her from her decision. But she knew in her heart she was doing the right thing. "I've depended on others most of my life...so much so that sometimes I couldn't let go," she said, thinking of Buffy and Tara. "I think it's time I stood on my own two feet. For a while, anyway." 

Without looking at her, he nodded. "Just so long as you remember there are people who care about you," he said in a casual, almost brusque tone. 

"I will. It's what gives me the courage to go out there." 

He rotated his head to face her, and in the starlight she could just make out his smile. "I know what you mean, luv." 

------ 

Much to her chagrin, Spike insisted on accompanying Willow to the check-in counter, and then the departure gate. _Boy, dying really does change people._

He faced her and rocked back on his heels. "So, er..." 

"You're not gonna get all mushy on me, are you?" Willow said, quirking her mouth. 

"Eh. Course not," he said, looking as if she'd just told him his roots were showing. "I was just gonna ask if you've got all your bits and pieces." 

Willow patted her duffel bag and brandished her boarding pass, ticket, and passport. "All present and accounted for." She hesitated. "Listen, go easy on Angel, will ya?" 

"Sure. When hell freezes over." His gaze roamed over the other passengers. 

"Spike," she said, exasperated. "You _are_ both on the same side now." 

"Don't remind me." He glanced at her face and sighed. "How 'bout I promise not to stake him? Will that do you?" 

Willow mock pouted. "I guess, if that's the best I'm going to get." 

"Believe me, I'm the one getting the short end of the stick here," Spike said. 

"Willow!" 

Startled, she looked across the terminal and spotted Angel sprinting towards them, waving madly. 

Spike shook his head. "Drama queen," he muttered. Leaning in, he hugged her so hard she could've sworn her bones creaked. "Take care of yourself, luv." 

She breathed in the scent of tobacco and leather...and hair gel. "You too, Spike." He released her and strode off in the opposite direction to Angel, duster swirling in his wake. Willow grinned. _Now who's the drama queen?_

Angel reached her. "Hey." 

"Hey." She was surprised to see him, having already said her goodbyes to the gang. 

He gave her an uncertain smile. "I, er, wanted to thank you in person." 

"Oh. Well, like I said, I kinda owed Spike--" 

"Actually, I meant for trying to help Cordy." 

"Right...that makes a lot more--" She plastered a smile on her face. "You're welcome." 

"Not that I don't appreciate what you did for Spike," he said quickly. "I just wish...he deserved it." 

She held his gaze. "He does, Angel." 

He was the first to look away. "Maybe," he said grudgingly as he shuffled his feet. "So, Paris, huh?" 

"Yep. I hear there's an evil law firm there. Not to mention the Mona Lisa." 

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, maybe you could use your magic to fix it up. The painting, that is." She gave him a look. "Or not. Listen, call me if you need anything, okay?" 

"Er, Angel, you do realise I'm gonna be working _against _Wolfram & Hart, right?" 

His face went slack for an instant before he recovered. "Sure. Call me anyway; I still have contacts that aren't connected to Wolfram & Hart." His brow creased. "I think." 

A wave of affection engulfed her and she hugged him. "You'll be okay, Angel. I can feel it." 

He relaxed under her arms. "I hope you're right." 

She thumped his back and pulled away. "Aren't I always?" 

"You really want me to answer that?" he said, smiling. 

Smiling back, Willow thumped his shoulder. "You take care, Angel." 

"You too, Willow." 

She started towards the gate but something occurred to her and she wheeled about. "By the way, tell Eve I said hi." 

Angel's smile widened. "Will do. Give 'em hell." 

Grinning, she saluted with two fingers, then turned and strode to the gate. The world awaited her.   
  


End 


End file.
